Wild Horses and Burros Please Take Me Away

The Force of the Horse

By R.T. Fitch on April 14, 2010 • ( 9 Comments )

Story by R.T. Fitch – Author of “Straight from the Horse’s Heart”

Grappling with Sanity in a World That Makes No Sense

Last night I did something that I normally don’t do when I sit down to write, I lost my temper.  My wife, Terry, has taught me to think twice before I hit the send key and usually I am pretty good about following that rule.  But last night I was so ticked that I couldn’t even see straight.

Maybe it was the cumulative effect of a stone cold, dead and silent administration that is actively and systematically stripping our public lands of their rightful inhabitants, our native wild horses.  I lay awake at night hearing the screams, moans and cries of those who are captured and dying in the BLM concentrations camps, I get little sleep.

Or perhaps it is the individual stupidity and sheer factual disconnect of a handful of “wanna-be” state legislators who continue to embarrass and demean the good people of their respective states by pushing for the construction of horse slaughter plants when it is illegal to transport horse meat (it’s uninspected), the meat is tainted with drugs and the market has all but dried up.  I don’t get it.

Possibly it is because I have been away from my own farm, wife and horses for several weeks and I am in serious need of a horse fix or at least a hug.  While I travel deprivation of all types stalk me and wear on my spirit.

But the news and the resulting research on the NYCPD Mounted Unit horses being put down just set me off and I mean REALLY off.  I guess it was the total violation of trust that boils my blood as if we are nothing else we should be beings of commitment and the bearers of truth and honesty.

All I saw was blood, death and the white of a horse’s eye in a wide stare when he finally figured out what was happening too him, all be it too late.

It was so dark last night that my mind went back to the last time that I was home, to the last time that I had been on the back of my good friend and partner, Harley.  If not for the kind heart of a racing horse owner I never would have known this wonderful being.  If not for that sensible member of the TB racing community Ginerous Legacy would have been hit in the head with a captive bolt gun, at Dallas Crown, and skinned alive so that his drug filled flesh could be shipped overseas for human consumption some 10 years ago.  My blood runs cold when I think of that and I may only allow my mind to stray down that path while I am well away as I fear that such thoughts would be too troubling in his presence.

I found some peace, last night, recounting that encounter with my friend and believe that I will allow myself to follow that same trail this evening.  It feels warm, comforting and oh so very refreshing, come join me and let’s wash our minds out for a moment before we call it a day:

A month ago myself, Harley, Terry and her Brazilian friend, Apache, rode around our property and out onto the trails on a beautiful Texas spring day.  I had not been riding with Harley in months, so long that I can’t remember but it really did not matter, we were in the moment and the moment was good.

I ride Harley with no bit and usually let him explore where he wants to explore as it is as much about his enjoyment and excitement as it is about mine and we had a fantastic time.  So much so, I asked Terry to take a picture of us together before we called it a day, that picture is inserted here and I think that you can see that even though we had been on the trail for many hours the two of us were good to go for longer.

But that’s not the end of the story nor what really touches my heart, things just are not that simple.

The following day it was back to chores as my time at home in the U.S. seems to fly by much faster than my time away and I had many chores to accomplish prior to stepping on that 747 again.  Terry keeps a pretty comprehensive list and one of the most pressing issues was replacing every single brass gate valve on our irrigation system through out our pastures.  Southwest Texas had several deep freezes over this past winter and things froze up and burst that never had been in danger before, so it was an arduous chore.

Of course, being out in the pasture you can become what I call a “horse toy” pretty darn quick, particularly if you have a bag of tools with you.  But on that day there was one horse that had my eye and my company and he was not allowing anyone to get close to me and my work; that was Harley.

I would move to one sprinkler riser and Harley would follow, he would want to inspect the valve before I installed it and watch closely while I pulled off the old and installed the new.  It would take about 20 minutes per valve and then I would move to another one, with Harley following closely behind.  Sometimes he would lay his chin on my shoulder and at other times he would put a nostril in my ear so that I would know that he was there.  But hour after hour we continued our toil and he never left me to graze or to drink.  It was so unusual and profound that Terry broke out the camera and took a few shots as my companion stood and helped me with my work, and he did help as we talked while I worked and he was a very good listener.

Thoroughbred "Ginerous Legacy" (Harley) rescued from slaughter by Habitat for Horses - Photo by Terry Fitch

I talked about the capture of the Calico herd, I cursed about the likes of “Slaughterhouse” Sue and “Red” Ed Butcher and ole Harley only listened.  I told him that we were planning to go to D.C. and make a case for the horses (which we did) and a part of me sensed that he liked that as the “March for Mustangs” topic was worth the nose in the ear thing.

But finally when I finished with the last valve, I scratched behind his ears, rubbed his chest and massaged his withers and bid him farewell as I was due for a rest, a little human food and an adult beverage.  I walked away towards the barn when I felt his eyes on my back.  From some 50 yards away I turned around and stopped only to see Harley glued in the same spot I had left him and he was watching me.  I was a little surprised as I thought that once the “valve show” was over he would move on to another adventure but he had not budged.

We stood for a few moments looking at each other and I thought the words, “I love you” and without a second’s lapse, Harley stepped forward and slowly walked up to me.  It took a few moments as he was in no hurry so I put the tool bag down and stood and waited.

He had the option to go and graze with his buddies or refresh himself with water but instead he chose to come see me, to say goodbye and to reaffirm that we were a team.

I did not move as the big TB walked straight up to me and gently leaned his flat forehead into my chest.  I rubbed his ears and stroked under his chin until his eyes closed.  Calmly and quietly I leaned over and kissed him between his eyes and whispered, “I love you” and turned to leave.

The barn was only about 30 feet away and as I approached it’s wide door a twinge touched my heart and the hair on my neck tingled as I heard a soft, far away voice say, “I love you too”.

The troubles of the world have melted away in the gentle shower of the memory of that love and I am forever thankful for my bounty.

But with that loving awareness comes a deep sadness for all who have been senselessly lost and a strange pity for those who caused the suffering; those who have turned their backs and their hearts away from our joy.

Maybe that is what hell is, a heart devoid of love; an empty hollow feeling that one will not allowed to be filled with passion but  instead it drips with anger and blood lust aimed at those who burst with joy and awareness.  Perhaps that is damnation; maybe those who take what should not be taken are already being punished and live the nightmare that we can only have fitful dreams about.  Instead of despising them maybe we should pity them for their loss and their torment as their lives are so very empty, shallow and without meaning.

Maybe, tonight, instead of being angry I will reflect upon the terrible loss that they have created and ask God to have mercy on their souls.  I think a horse would do that, in fact, I think the horses have been doing that all along.

I believe that tonight I will think like a horse, let the demons escape me and allow the “Force of the Horse” to take me home.  I think I may dream about Harley.

I swear I just heard a distant whinny.

Sleep well my friends.

Categories: The Force of the Horse

Tagged as: cloud foundation, Eqine Welfare Alliance, Equine, Equine Rescue, Habitat for Horses, Horse, Horse Meat, Horse Slaughter, R.T. Fitch, Terry Fitch, Texas, wild burro, Wild Horse